Mama
by MGMK
Summary: Maya's talking up a storm...sort of.


**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Just borrowing.

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the absence. I promise I'm working on the Fifty First Times series as well. But I'm currently (hopefully temporarily) beta-less so it's slowing down the creating/writing process tremendously. But I haven't forgotten. I assure you. Thanks for the continued reading (readers both old and new) and thanks for the reviews. I'll get around to replying to those soon.

**Author's Note #2: **Quick little edit to clear some things up. First and foremost, let it be known, that the end of this story is just for comic relief and meant to be read that way. Nothing bad befell Maya. This isn't an actual episode of _Glee_. Secondly, this story coincides with a series of one-shots written in the same verse (which I should have just made into a story already with as long as it's become but, alas, I haven't so). I shall list them now in the order that they were posted (I think?):_** Baby Talk**_, _**Homecoming**_,_** Lunch Break**_, _**A Little Personality**_, _**My Mrs. and Baby Kisses**_, _**The Art of Appreciation**_, _**Worth It**_, _**Kept Promises**_, _**Mother's Day**_, _**Me, You, and Miss Bug-A-Boo**_, _**Troutified**_, and _**Mama**_.

* * *

Maya's talking up a storm.

From the moment the early morning sun starts filtering in through the drapes to the moment they're tucking her in night, all freshly powdered and primped, Maya doesn't seem to stop bumping her gums.

Quite literally, Brittany notes with a smile, as she lifts their baby girl out of the past lukewarm bathwater, Maya's babbling away non-stop about something or another as she dries her off.

She kneels before placing the towel over the toddler's head, softly massaging the water out while Maya munches on her fingers.

"Well, I don't know Maya, I thought the Berenstain Bears were classics," Brittany says casually. "Not quite up to par with _Hop On Pop_, but it's really hard to match that genius, don't you think?"

Maya stares up at her, her wet hair curling cutely as it falls now just below her tiny ears (she gets those from her Mommy), seemingly contemplating the question, but then she just grins, reaching for her Mama's chin with her slobber-wet fingers.

"You're lucky you're so cute, May," Brittany says, kissing her baby girl on the nose. "I don't even like it when your Mommy drools on me."

"Uh, excuse me," Santana says, suddenly joining them in the bathroom, "I do not drool."

Brittany grins and Maya squeals, excited. "You totally drool," she says, turning around to look into the tired eyes of her wife. "But you're lucky you're cute too."

"Mmmhmm," Santana mumbles, leaning down to kiss her and then kiss Maya. "How goes the talk exchange today? Any luck?"

"I thought she was gonna say Mama," Brittany pouts, her hands working to wrap the towel more securely around Maya, "But she just kind of hummed. And I was bummed." Brittany brightens. "Hey, that rhymed."

Santana chuckles but joins them on the bathroom floor, handing Brittany the amenities and clothing she'd brought in as they prepare Maya for bed. She looks wiped, but a day-long recording session will do that to you.

Brittany brushes her free hand against Santana's foot. "You okay?"

Santana smiles, squeezing a nice amount of baby lotion onto the palm of her hand and rubbing her hands together vigorously to warm it before applying it to the skin of Maya's back. "I'm perfect now."

"We missed you all day," Brittany murmurs, lotioning Maya's chubby arms. "Didn't we, Pumpkin?"

Maya shakes her head 'no', her new go-to response to every question they ask her.

"I missed you guys too," Santana says, grinning. "Especially Maya's cute little booty dimples," she adds, playfully reaching out to pinch her lightly, delighting when the baby giggles in response as she tries to squirm away.

"San, is it okay to check out your own baby's butt?"

"She doesn't have a butt," Santana quips, poking Maya playfully. "She's got a cute little tushie."

Maya squirms some more, laughing like a tiny mad person and they laugh as well, tickled.

"Tell you what," Brittany starts, turning Maya so that she's facing Santana, "Why don't you finish getting her ready and I'll run you a nice hot relaxing bath."

Santana smiles, getting to her feet and quickly reaching back down for her daughter when she whines in protest. "Are you going to join me?"

Brittany gives her a 'duh' look. "I said _hot_ relaxing bath. C'mon, Santana. Keep up."

***o*O*o***

When Santana finds her way back into the bathroom – Maya thankfully falling asleep a short while after Santana's goodnight kiss – she's shed all of her clothes, sneaking up behind her wife who's still stirring oils into the bathwater.

Santana nudges her with her toe, "Hey."

Brittany glances up and then does a double-take, her jaw dropping open and she nearly drops the bottle of bath oil.

"Damn, Santana," Brittany murmurs, reaching her free arm around to wrap around her legs, just below the knees. With Brittany still kneeling on the bathroom floor, it puts her in a really great position and Santana chuckles deeply when her wife's hand grasps her ass.

"I thought this was going to be relaxing," she says, her voice growing breathy at the end as Brittany places an open-mouthed kiss just there.

"Baby," Brittany murmurs, this time dropping the bottle altogether, "When I'm done with you, you'll be so relaxed you'll feel like you took a horse tranquilizer."

***o*O*o***

Brittany's left arm is starting to cramp up something fierce, the strain of holding her body weight making her ache, but there's no way she's letting up now, not with the way Santana's grasping at her back, trying to hold her as tight as she can even while her muscles spasm uncontrollably.

There's more water on the floor then in the bathtub and Brittany smirks before trailing her tongue from the hollow at the base of Santana's neck to her ear, nibbling the lobe there gently. Beneath the water, her right hand is wreaking delicious havoc, three fingers thrusting steadily into Santana while her thumb provides glorious friction against her clit.

Santana's virtually vibrating against her, trembling all over as Brittany works her closer and closer to the edge in the way that only Brittany knows how.

In the way that only ever Brittany will know how.

She pants against Santana's ear, and usually now would be when she'll start with the sexy talk, the dirty words that always coax her wife to orgasm but suddenly Brittany's overcome with emotion, so much that she has to swallow down the lump in her throat.

"I know I tell you this all the time," Brittany whispers, kissing her ear and throwing her weight behind her thrusts now, "But I love you, Santana. So much. I love your mind. I love your body. I love your soul… I love how you just give yourself over to me entirely when we're like this, that you trust me that much. I love that you're mine," Brittany nuzzles her neck, gently. "All mine."

Santana sighs. "All yours."

"All mine," Brittany echoes, pressing her thumb down hard as she thrusts hard one more time and Santana tumbles over, her body arching up so high out of the water that Brittany's toes get cold.

Brittany works her down, kissing Santana languidly until Santana starts to kiss back as she comes back down to earth.

"I love you," she murmurs through an exhale, her now slackened arms rising out of the water to trail lightly down the ridges of Brittany's spine.

"I think that's the orgasm talking," Brittany laughs lightly but then Santana's pulling back, her dark eyes serious as they focus on Brittany's.

"I love you," she repeats, her tone leaving room for no argument and Brittany's grin softens into something more akin to angelic.

"I love you, too," Brittany answers, sincerity dripping from her voice. "Let's get you to bed," she says, starting to push herself up but Santana shakes her head and tightening her grip around Brittany's naked body.

"Nuh uh. Let's stay here for awhile."

Brittany settles back down moving her arms so that they slide behind Santana's back and rests her head against her wife's chest, listening to the steady pitter-patter of her heart.

It's quiet for a moment then…

"Can't feel your legs?"

"Not even my toes," Santana answers.

***o*O*o***

"Can you say 'Mama', princess?" Santana asks her pleadingly, wiping a smudge of pureed peaches off of Maya's cheek.

The baby kicks her feet out in her high chair with a giggle before shaking her head.

"You're a right, smart, smug little bugger aren't you?" Santana asks her, pulling off the tray and undoing her bib before unbuckling her and lifting her out, joining Brittany in the living room.

"Baby," Brittany starts, flipping back to the first page of her steno pad, "Look over these questions real quick."

"Okay," Santana says, skimming down the list quickly and frowning.

_Would you rather make out with a smelly hobo who'd just ate garlic paste or Rachel?_

_Would you rather listen to Rachel talk or listen to a washing machine full of tools on the spin cycle?_

_Would you rather chew your own arm off and beat yourself repeatedly atop your head with it or spend time with Rachel?_

"Britt," Santana chuckles a little, "I don't think these questions are gonna work."

"Why not?"

"Because they're all about Rachel."

"So," Brittany shrugs. "If any of the candidates pick her then we'll know they're not of sound mind and therefore won't be allowed within one-hundred feet of our daughter."

"But, Sweetheart," Santana says sweetly, "They won't even know who Rachel is."

Brittany blinks. "I don't see your point."

"Just… we'll just ask them questions, naturally."

They're getting ready to interview the first of three potential candidates to be Maya's babysitter and when this process started several months and several hundreds of applications ago, the task seemed far too daunting for the first-time parents to handle.

After all, Santana's always a stranger's cough away from pulling a straight Michael Jackson and draping veils over Maya every time they go out.

And Brittany, sweet, bubbly, seeing the best in everyone Brittany, trusts _no one_ when it comes to Maya.

But, they're working parents and eventually there will come a time when they're friends and family'll be too busy to help out and they'll have to rely on someone else to look after their daughter.

The screening process was tiresome, but with their connections, plus the added advantage of Maya's "Aunts" and "Uncles" and their vested interest in their daughter's well-being, the pile dwindled until there were only a handful of applicants left.

And then Uncle Sam and Brittany picked through several of them because they failed horribly in the 'name-game' test (Sorry Bart-bart- fo-fart) and that's how they ended up with three.

The first of which is due to arrive in-

DING DONG!

-now.

"Do you think our doorbell is too generic?" Brittany asks Santana. "Maybe we should change it. I'll record something."

"Oh yeah," Santana says, amused. "What are you gonna change it to?"

"It's Brittany bitch."

Santana cracks up as Brittany answers the door.

Then closes it.

"What…_Brittany_," Santana chastises, getting up to answer it herself when Brittany turns back to her wearing a frown.

"I don't like her."

"You didn't even say anything," Santana says quietly, opening the door and welcoming the young lady inside. "Hi, come in," Santana smiles. "Sorry about that. Her hand…slipped," she offers, by way of explanation even though Brittany's bored look clearly says otherwise.

"That's okay," the brightly smiling woman answers, crinkling her nose cutely at Maya, "Same thing happens to me all the time."

"I'll bet it does," Brittany says, not quite under her breath.

"Please, have a seat," Santana says, gesturing to the living room area. "We'll be right with you," she assures her and as soon as the woman's out of earshot, she wheels on Brittany, Maya giggling slightly as she goes along for the ride.

"Brittany," Santana hisses, "Quit it."

"I don't like her," Brittany repeats, pouting like a petulant child. "She's wearing Doc Martens which is just plain homosexist in my opinion. And, I don't know if you've noticed, but she's a bottle blonde."

Santana just blinks, shaking her head at her wife in disbelief before grabbing Brittany's hand to pull her along. "And people always assumed I'd be the crazy irrational overprotective one."

"…And she drives a Prius, San. A _Prius._"

***o*O*o***

"How's the search for a sitter coming along?" Sam asks her, dutifully chopping the celery.

"It's…coming," Santana says, infusing as much sarcasm as she can into the word.

She's over at Mercedes and Sam's for a quick visit while Brittany's in New York. It's kind of weird now that they're _living together_ living together and Mercedes has gotten over that whole marrying your high-school sweetheart complex she'd had. Before, Sam always looked a little uneasy at Mercedes' place, always on edge and at guard, like at any moment he was going to be expelled from the house and forbidden to ever come back.

Now, wearing a blue apron with the superman emblem on the front, he looks completely comfortable, even if he is still wearing his work shirt and suit pants.

Sam chuckles. "Is she that bad?"

"Worse, I swear. I mean, I get that it's a big decision and not just anyone can look after Maya but she's giving these people no chance whatsoever. And the questions she asks them. I'm surprised we haven't been sued yet," Santana laments, needing to vent.

Sam's lips quirk up, sensing something good on the horizon. "Like what?"

"Like, 'what are your preferences when it comes to explicit portrayals of sexual subject matter?'" Santana supplies, looking up at Sam from under her eyelashes as he dissolves into belly-shaking guffaws. "She literally asked one of 'em what their porn preference was. And when I asked her why she thought we needed to ask that she said that we needed to know if Maya's sitter was into kinky shit or not."

Sam doubles over the pot of stew, dumping his now bowlful of vegetables in while still laughing. "Aww, Britt," he chortles. "She's so overprotective."

"She really is," Santana mutters, even though she smiles. "And, I gotta admit, it's really cute most of the time. But it's really counter-productive when it comes to this process."

"NUH!"

Sam looks up, fretting, startled at the noise but Santana only turns toward the kitchen entrance with a smile.

"Mama's in the kitchen with Uncle Sam, sweetie!" she calls out and sure enough, Maya comes toddling in with her Aunt Mercedes right on her heels.

"She calls you Nuh?" Mercedes asks, coming up and walking around the countertop to joining Sam. Santana reaches down to pick up Maya settling her onto the edge of the counter and tickling her bare toes in the process.

"Yeah, well, we think so. So far I think 'Nuh' is me and 'Beeuh' is Brittany," she explains, kissing Maya's hands as they press against her face while she's talking, "But, who knows? I'm just waiting on this little one to stop being so stubborn and give us some real words."

"Are you guys worried about that at all?" Mercedes asks, picking at the chicken browning in the skillet until Sam slaps her hand playfully with a wooden spoon.

"No, the doctors say she's progressing fine," Santana says, almost dismissively. "Plus, her comprehension is off the charts. She knows where all her body parts are don't you, pumpkin? And, watch this. Maya, point to Uncle Trouty. Where's Uncle Trouty?"

Maya's head swivels around and with a drooly grin she points at Sam, who frowns as Santana and Mercedes laugh, though his lips twitch just a tad. "Ha ha ha," Sam snarks, flipping the chicken over. "Keep laughing," he says to Mercedes, "and see if I give you any of this awesome dinner."

"Aww," Santana laughs along with Maya, kissing her on the cheek, "Don't be pouty, Trouty."

"Okay, Santana," Mercedes laughs, "That's enough teasing for now. I don't think my man can take much more." She leans up to kiss his cheek, then grins as she smudges the residual lipstick away.

"Psh," Santana dismisses playfully, "He wouldn't even be your man if it wasn't for me. Let us not forget that he and I dated and Sam's a pretty decent guy. Let's be real if it wasn't for the lack of boobs and the fully functioning penis, we might still be a thing, Trouty."

Santana finishes with a grin, her attention turning briefly to Maya as the baby catches hold of her shirt collar, but soon enough she sees the smile on Sam's face fall and he sets the spoon down before excusing himself, abandoning the apron on one of their kitchen chairs.

"What…what's wrong?" Santana asks Mercedes, seeing the similar look on her face and hugging Maya closer to her as the little girl whines softly, picking up on the subtle change in atmosphere.

"We were uh," Mercedes starts, smiling sadly, "We were trying to have a baby."

"What?" Santana's eyes widen dramatically in shock, her whole face lighting up. She starts to get up to congratulate her friend, but then, "…wait…were?"

"We, um, it wasn't working," Mercedes explains, her voice growing heavy with emotion and Santana finds herself moving toward her anyway. "So we took some tests and…it turns out…Sam's sperm aren't viable."

"Oh, 'Cedes," Santana breathes, pulling the other woman into a fierce one-armed hug, always mindful of Maya. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, her throat thick with apology.

Mercedes shakes her head, composing herself quickly. "You didn't know."

"Still," Santana insists, pulling back so that Mercedes can see the sincerity in her eyes, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I'm fine," Mercedes reassures her, "It's just, Sam's taking a lot of the blame for everything. And I've tried telling him that it doesn't matter. That we'll find a way and that there are plenty of alternatives to starting a family. But, it's still like someone sunk his battleship."

"And then I go and open my big mouth," Santana murmurs dejectedly.

"I'm glad you're finally acknowledging that yours is as big as mine."

They both turn (well, all three of them really as Maya starts instantly smiling when she sees him), and find Sam, leaning against the entryway, a small smile on his lips.

"I'm sorry Tr-…uh, Saaaaaammm," Santana draws it out like it's really difficult to say and he cracks up fully.

"Thanks Saaaaaaaantana," he mimics, earning himself a mighty eye roll. "It means a lot. Really, it does."

***o*O*o***

Brittany and Santana, arms folded, stare down into Maya's crib, both looking anxious.

"It's time, Santana."

Santana shakes her head, biting her lip. "But it's my magical baby cry stopper, Britt."

Brittany reaches into the crib and plucks out the tiny pacifier, forgotten by Maya in her sleep. "All the research says the time is now. And, it may be what's hindering her speech development, babe."

Brittany turns Maya's blankets back down, brushing the sleeping toddler's cheek before straightening back up, leading Santana out into the hallway.

"But she loves that thing so much," Santana argues, weakly. "And when she wakes up looking for it, I'm totally giving you up."

"You're not going to be my alibi?" Brittany asks, rounding into the kitchen. "Some Bonnie you are."

"Hold up," Santana says. "Why I gots to be Bonnie?"

"Because I'm Clyde," Brittany shrugs. "Why would you be Clyde?"

"I look better in a suit than you do," Santana says, snippily. "Plus I'm more badass."

Brittany's eyes widen as she peers at a spot just above Santana's shoulder. "Oh my God, it's a spider!"

"Where?" Santana shriek-whispers, thrashing her hair about and jumping around. "Where is it? Kill it. _Kill _it."

"Ha ha ha," Brittany enunciates her laughter cutely, her shoulders shaking as Santana narrows her eyes as her. "Oh yeah. _So _badass."

"Ugh," Santana grumbles, fixing her hair, "Why did I marry you?"

"Because your hands were made for my boobs," Brittany quips with a wink before motioning for Santana to join her at the trash can.

Brittany steps on the pedal, the lid of the stainless steel flip can opening slowly as she does so, before screwing on a solemn look and clearing her throat.

"Dearly Beloved," she starts, cradling the pacifier in both hands. "We are gathered here this evening,"

"Brittany," Santana starts, barely able to get it out through her wide smile, "What are you doing?"

Brittany shushes her, continue. "We are gathered here this evening to bid farewell to Mr. Binky."

"Oh my God," Santana laughs, then snorts, burying her face in Brittany's shoulder.

"Now, Mr. Binky, has been a good binky. He's been there for us when we needed him most; when the soothing words from a mother and calming music just wouldn't do, Mr. Binky was there…"

"You're insane."

"…when baby teeth got a little too strong for Mommy's pinky finger, Mr. Binky was there."

"Absolutely bonkers."

"…when Santana here got all hot and bothered and wanted me to put it on her like a rap video," Brittany says pointedly, looking at her wife with a raised eyebrow and smirk, "Mr. Binky was there."

...

…

"Thank you Mr. Binky."

"Binky, good friend," Brittany says, holding clasped hands above the trashcan, the pacifier cupped within her like an offering to some garbage god, "You will be missed."

Santana crosses herself as Brittany lets it fall into the trash can gracefully. "Plastic to pellets, _Babies R' Us_ to rust."

Brittany smiles as Santana leans into her side, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"A-women."

***o*O*o***

"I've worked for six years with the same family, since high school really. Actually, they're from around here. The Rutherfords?"

"Oh yeah?" Finn laughs, looking across at the woman happily. "We know the Rutherfords. Good people. Remember Matt, Santana?"

"Of course I remember Matt," Santana replies, still keeping an eye on Finn as he sits with her daughter, both of them seemingly engrossed in one of Maya's many picture books.

Yes, it's been a long time since he's run into any tall, wide, neon-colored immobile object but she'd rather be safe than rushing her daughter to the emergency room for a broken leg.

"I'm sorry," the woman says, shaking her head at herself for getting caught staring again, "But she's just so unbelievably adorable. And you're so good with her," she says, commenting to Finn mostly and Finn barely pays it any attention, grinning cutely.

"It's easy to be good with little Miss Maya," he coos, poking her on her tiny nose gently. "She's my favoritest."

This second applicant interview is going much better than the first, Santana admits, looking on as the woman smiles, looking between them (Finn and Maya) and her (Santana) warmly and just as a stray thought starts tugging at the back of her mind, the jangle of Brittany's keys reaches her ears.

"Sorry I'm late but-"

"BEEEYUH!" Maya exclaims, cutting off Brittany's windswept words.

Brittany smiles, dumping her bags by the door as she slips out of her shoes. "Hey Pumpkin," she grins, her bright eyes sweeping over every smiling face in the room.

"Beeyuh! Beeyuh! Beeyuh!" Maya starts chanting, clapping her hands to keep the rhythm and Finn laughingly joins in.

"Hey baby," Brittany greets Santana, leaning down to give her a little kiss and then reaching over to tussle Finn's hair briefly, before turning to the woman sitting across from them, determined to at least give her a chance.

"Hi," she says, holding her hand out for a formal handshake, "I'm Brittany."

The woman stares for a moment then, "_Oh_," she says, like something's finally clicked into place in her mind but she still frowns. "Wait, I don't get it," she says, peering beyond Brittany to Santana and Finn. "I thought you two were…"

"What?!" Santana laughs, completely disbelieving. "No way."

"Yeah, no," Finn laughs, shaking his head and standing Maya up on his lap.

"As if he could ever pull someone like me," Santana says, highlighting her figure. "I mean, hello."

Brittany laughs at Finn's annoyed look that quickly melts away when Maya reaches out for Brittany so strongly she almost flips out of his hands.

But Brittany's there, pulling Maya up and into her arms and accepting Maya's 'welcome home' kiss.

"So…" the woman starts, looking between Brittany and Santana now, "…you're her parents?" she asks, the words leaking out haltingly, like the start/stop of a faucet.

"Yes. We are," Santana says, slowly standing up and taking her place next to Brittany. Finn looks on from the couch, confused.

Santana watches as the woman's face turns hard, the once rounded lines now sharp and angular with a look she's unfortunately all too familiar with. "And I can see that that's going to be a problem for you so why don't you just take your things and leave," Santana says with as much "kindness" as she can muster.

"I was just thinking the same thing," the woman says, snatching up her purse in an indignant huff and rapidly making her way to the door, pausing momentarily to speak. "I think what you're doing is deplorable and I'll pray that God forgives you for your sin." With that, she angrily stomps out of the doorway and off the porch.

"Oh yeah!" Finn yells, finally catching on and up, leaping from the couch and darting to the door with as much speed as his stiff legs will allow, "Well…_I'll_ pray that God forgives you for your face!"

Santana snorts. "Nice one, Mr. Finntastic."

"You think so?" he asks, feeling rather proud until they both laugh at him, for once not letting other people's ignorance bother them. "You don't really think so," he murmurs dismally.

Brittany and Santana just laugh harder.

***o*O*o***

"Maya," Santana asks her as she stands in front of her bedroom mirror, fretting over her hair. "What do you think? Should Mama wear her hair up?" she asks the little girl, demonstrating the look quickly.

Maya nods.

"Really?" Santana asks, scrunching up her nose. "But Britt really likes it when it's down," she says, smoothing it down over her shoulders. "See?"

Maya nods again.

Santana frowns. "You're not helping, Princess."

She doesn't know why she's making a big deal out of this particular evening. There's nothing particularly special going on – actually, if Brittany doesn't get home soon they'll both probably be asleep – but she'd texted Brittany that photo she'd taken of Maya wearing her glasses and grinning with those two nubs of front teeth and Brittany had texted her back right away that she'd almost gotten her kicked out of her meeting and to _be ready_ for her when she got home and not to worry about dinner.

Needless to say, Santana's expectations went through the roof but now she's wondering if she's just over thinking everything.

"Where's my Boo?!" Brittany calls out cutely when she gets in, taking less than a minute to find them thanks to Maya's incessant shrieking laughter.

"Ahh," Brittany breathes, walking up to the both of them, Maya bouncing happily on the bed, "Mi familia." She grabs Santana about the waist and dips her, "Cara mia," she says, dropping closed mouth kisses about Santana's neck and making her laugh and shriek like a schoolgirl.

"Y mi Niña Bonita," she continues, giving Maya a similar treatment.

"Someone's in a good mood," Santana comments, joining them on the bed, leaning over Brittany's shoulder to watch as she tickles Maya about the tummy.

"The best, San. The new project with Mike is flowing smoothly. And my new design team at work are so awesome; we closed the Davidson deal. And right at the end of the meeting I get that super cute text from you. I just had to rush straight home after that," Brittany sighs, soaking it all in, leaning back to give Santana a longer, deeper kiss. "If this is living the dream, I never want to wake up."

Maya gets to her knees and crawls into Brittany's lap as they kiss again, pulling herself into a standing position and grabbing onto the collar of Brittany's shirt as she jump/bounces in place, wanting their attention.

"Nuh," she grumbles in her baby voice. "Beeyuh," she whines.

"Maybe if we don't answer her, she'll actually say Mama," Brittany whispers against Santana's lips.

"Worth a try," Santana grins, leaning in again.

The positioning is a little awkward for Brittany so Santana shifts onto her knees, her hands cupping Brittany's face gently as they keep going, ignoring Maya the louder she gets.

Maya little tugs on her shirt grow more adamant, until Brittany's snickering against Santana's lips as much as she is kissing them. "Hold on, Maya's about to turn into a Junior Snix," she mumbles, making Santana laugh. She turns to look at her daughter. "What? Whaddya want?"

Maya pouts up at them, looking like she wants to cry – or murder them, but then she holds out her little arms for a hug.

"Oh my God," Brittany laughs, settling her between them both so they can hug altogether, "She is your carbon copy, I swear. All cranky and bossy one moment and fluffy marshmallows the next."

"I'm not 'fluffy marshmallows'," Santana murmurs, snuggling against Brittany.

Brittany rolls her eyes. "Of course you're not."

***o*O*o***

"Brittany! You didn't tell me you brought dessert home, too!"

"Of course I did," Brittany calls back, still rinsing the suds off of Maya's back. "What kind of wife do you think I am?!"

"The kind that is so getting lucky tonight!"

Brittany laughs loud enough that Santana can hear her before saying to herself, "And every night," cockily.

Maya gurgles, still carelessly splashing around in the inch of bathwater full of colorful toys.

"Okay, Maya, almost done. One last systems check. Ears?"

Maya reaches for her ears and smiles.

"All good?" Brittany asks.

"How about…nose?"

Maya pokes her own nose and wrinkles it in response at the wetness.

"Nose looks clean. How about…those stinky little toes?" Brittany asks, reaching beneath the water and grabbing for them, usuing the soft washcloth as an aide in her attack.

Maya kicks out against it, leaning back into the free hand Brittany has keeping her upright.

"What's the matter, May?" Brittany asks, chuckling at her giggling daughter. "You want Mama to stop?"

Maya shakes her head no even though she clearly means yes, if her red face is any indication and Brittany ceases, wiping the stray water droplets off her face from Maya's kicking attack.

When she calms down, Maya grabs her tug boat and rubber duck and crash them into one another, cracking herself up again in the process and Brittany just watches her, looking on proudly at what she and Santana made.

It never fails to fill her with wonder.

And then Maya stops laughing suddenly, stares up at her.

"Mama," she says, clear as a bell, and Brittany's eyes grow saucer-wide she's sure.

"Oh my- Santana!" Brittany yells, getting to her feet or trying to, the wet tiles make it difficult. "Maya, what did you say? Say it again."

Maya giggles, "Mama."

"Saaaaaaaaaannnn!" Brittany yells, leaping from the wet floor – we'll ignore the slipping and almost cracking her head on the toilet and stubbing her toe on the door trim – and scampering toward the kitchen as fast as her feet will carry her, running headlong into a frantic Santana.

"What?" Santana asks breathlessly. "What's wrong?"

"Maya," Brittany gasps. "Maya…she said…Maya said….Mama."

"She what?!" Santana yells through a smile and excited eyes. "She…when did she…how did she…who did she…wait," Santana asks with a frown, her eyes catching sight of Brittany's damp shirt, "Where is she?"

Now Brittany's eyes widen for a different reason. "Oh my – Maya!"


End file.
